


Raqs Sharqi

by rayenbow



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayenbow/pseuds/rayenbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's his favorite student.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raqs Sharqi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aykayem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/gifts).



Laughs escape the both of them and mingle with the final notes. They stand poised for a moment, his hand on her waist and her hand on his shoulder, their other hands clasped together to the side, pulled close to each other until the music finally fades. Together, they fall back on the couch, fingers intertwining. 

“Congratulations, Miss Lightwood,” Magnus says lightly. “You’ve mastered the waltz.”

She squeezes his hand and lets out a small laugh. “I probably wouldn’t have if I didn’t have such a hot teacher. Wait, did I say hot? I meant good. A good teacher.”

His scoff is quiet, but not unheard, and accompanied by an eyeroll. “I’m so sure.”

“So.” Animated again, she turns to him, her free hand reaching out to touch the collar of his silk shirt. “What are you going to teach me next?”

Somehow, it’s unsurprising that she’s ready to jump right into something else. Isabelle never seemed like the type to take long breaks between activities. Magnus arches a brow, though, and wraps his fingers around her wrist. “You’re not tired?”

“Stamina rune, remember?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t forgotten. Those stamina runes were his favorite parts of Shadowhunters. “Right.” Racking his brain, he brings her hand up to his lips, placing kisses along the inside of her wrist and forearm. “I learned how to belly dance in the eighteenth century,” he says against her skin. “Or maybe it was nineteenth. I can’t remember.”

“Color me completely unsurprised.” A grin splits across her face as she leaps up, pulling him with her. “So teach me how to belly dance.” 

It’s hard for him to say no to her most of the time. A problem that needs to be fixed, really, but right now he’s willing to give her what she wants. So, sighing, he begins unbuttoning his shirt, just enough for him to pull it over his head.

She stares at him, looking confused, but then shrugs. “Or we can do that. I mean, I won’t complain.”

That pulls a laugh out of him. “No, I’m teaching you. Just listen. Belly dancing is all about isolation. It’s a dance that pretty much involves every part of your body, but it focuses on the hips and stomach.”

“Hence, _belly dancing_ ,” Isabelle says.

“Yes.” He reaches toward her, taking her hands and pulling her a few steps closer. He guides her hands to his abdomen, resting them flat against his bronzed skin. “Feel the way I isolate my hips from my stomach.” Without taking his eyes off of her, he rolls his stomach. Her fingers dig lightly into his skin, and a smile begins to spread across her face. “And then the other way around.” He moves one of her hands to his hips, letting her fingers dip just under the top of his jeans. He sways his hips, smooth at first, and then sharper, like a quick pop. “Those are some of the basic moves.”

She nods, looking from his hips to his eyes. “Looks like a challenge. I’m game.”

With a sudden grin, he grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head. She’s used to this from him, though, and simply tosses it aside once he gets it off. He spins her around and pulls her back toward him, placing one hand on her hip and the other against her stomach. “Hips first. Just sway them, and try to keep your stomach as still as possible.”

Her hands cover his before she starts. Being the fast learner that she is, she’s quick to get the hang of it. It isn’t long before she’s swishing her hips like he had, with very little movement to her stomach.

“You’re doing good,” he says, dipping his head to murmur into her ear.

“Just good? I bet I can do great.” She steps back a little bit more, so that she’s close enough that he can feel her against him. She swings her hips again, brushing against him with every move. There’s nothing he can do to stop his slow inhale, or the few sparks the shower against her stomach. “How’s this?”

It takes him a second, but he manages to respond in an even voice. “Like I said. Good.”

He can hear the grin in her voice. “Guess I’m not trying hard enough.” She presses back fully against him, and he lets out a sharp huff. “You are so turned on right now.”

“You’re a terrible student,” he says, gripping her hips harder.

“I think I’m your favorite student.” She turns, wrapping her arms around his neck and jumping just enough to get her legs around his waist. Her heels dig into his back, and her fingers card through his hair. He loops one arm around her back to keep her up while his other hand expertly unclasps her bra.

“Let’s see if you can pass the test,” he breathes, then falls back on the couch.


End file.
